Here, Here, and Here
by The Unmentionables
Summary: Meet, Nicole "Tommie" Antonello, a teenaged artist who just wants to pass history class. To do so, she receives a bit of "help" from the Tablet of Ahkmunrah. Now Nicole must deal with her sickly father, an unexpected guest, and one historical essay. AU
1. For the Third Time This Week

_Here, Here, and Here_

Chapter 1

For the Third Time This Week

I woke up to a bolt of fiery light striking close to the outside of my window. The rain was splattering against the glass and I could see the trees shaking through the slit in my window shades. I was sitting in my pitch black room staring at the ceiling a when I realize that I was sweating. My previous dream lingering in my mind...

Dad, Please don't die_, I thought, _you need to be strong_. My father was a well built man with black hair and hazel eyes much like my own. He was six foot seven, very strong, and muscular. Now the muscles and fitness had all been stolen away by a mysterious sickness. I was holding his hand looking at his weak expression upon his face. He was as white as a ghost curled in a ball on his bed with his eyes tightly shut. "Be strong not just for me, but for mom too." He opens his bloodshot eyes, looking at me with a sad expression._

_"Nicole, I can't hold on forever. I am being as strong as I can and I don't think its going to be enough. Let me tell you something," he says looking as though he would just spring out of bed and say he was going to be better,_

_ "Look with to your heart, listen with your mind, and love with your ears." I look at him as though he`s crazy. _

_ "Look with your heart, listen with your mind, and love with your ears," he repeats looking at me with a strong expression on his face. _

_ "I want you to remember what I just told you, its the most important thing I will ever tell you." My dad starts to sink back into his bed looking weaker then before. _

_ "Heart, mind, and ears. Heart, mind, ears...," he says as he falls asleep._

I look around the room realizing that he only told me this a few nights ago. _I need to get to that hospital. _I leaped out of bed realizing that I don't have a car, license, or any other way of getting to the West Lake Hospital._ Crap, I need to talk to him,_ I think getting furious. I open the door to be bedroom just a crack. I wince as it shrieks a squeaking noise in protest, and I slip out. I stopped and thought getting there isn't going to be easy. I race out of my room staring into the dark house. _Great now I can`t see anything either._ I feel around the room for items I knew and their places. I could feel the leather chair next to our sofa. I kept walking into the blackness. There is the fridge now. _Ok now, I'm getting closer, I should be next to the door._ I reach out and feel a fuzzy object in the place of the door.

"What the heck?" I say feeling it. I find the light switch and turn the knob so it would be almost unlit. The next thing I knew I was staring into the face of my mother.

"Oh, um hey mom." I say with a nervous expression sitting upon my face. I turned to look at the clock and it was four in the morning.

"Nicole, this is the third time this week. You can see your dad tomorrow." she says angrily at me and she just turns around and walks away. My mom is a short woman of about five feet and six inches. She has brown hair and brown eyes and she looks just as stressed as I have been for months. Her once beautiful toned skin had turned pale from fear and worry lines had carved their way into her face.

I turn around and walk back to the hallway to my bedroom and close my squeaky door.

"_Damn it!_" I scream into my pillow. I turned around to look at the ceiling and drift into another dream of my dad...

_"Dad! I've missed you so much!" _

"_Nicole, its only been a few hours." _

_ "I know, I know, but I wanted to ask you somth..." The next thing I knew the doctor walks into the room. _

"_Are you t__he Antonello family?" simultaneous nods came from me, my dad, and mom. _

_ "Hello my name is doctor Shubert. We have completed a few tests and I have bad news. Mr. Antonello... you have stage four melanoma." I felt my heart drop into my stomach like I was going upwards in an elevator to fast. _

_ "It's a very awful cancer that most people don't survive." The next thing I knew I was balling my eyes out. I grip my fathers hand and just start to cry and I seems that I would never stop. I know the doctor begins to ramble on about treatment and hospital stays but all I could hear was the sound of my pathetic sobs against my dad`s chest. I can hear the heart monitor the he`s hooked up to begin to beep faster. "Beep! Beep! Beep!..."_

_ "BEEP, BEEP, BEEP...BEEP. BEEP. BEEP...BEEP. BEE-"_

_ "SHUT UP!" _I scream as my small hand comes down hard on the top of my alarm clock. It continues to blare into my ears until I push it off my nightstand with a powerful _WACK! _The chord pops out of the outlet and the beeping ceases. I roll off one side of my bed and collapse in a heap on the floor, sheets still wrapped tight around me. Waddling into the dusky bathroom, I feel along the wall and flip the light switch on.

Bright light stings my unadjusted eyes and I shut them promptly. I rip of the bed sheets from my arms and throw them to the floor as I move forth in my stocking feet, towards the mirror. After glaring at my reflection with half opened eyes, I run warm water in the circular sink. Cupping my hands, I fill them with the water and splash my face until I wake up fully. I then turn my face upwards to stare the girl in the mirror. My wavy dark hair is cut short, almost to point of being a boy`s, and sticks out at strange angles. I gave up on brushing the scary mess long ago. I watch the water drip down my fair skin and into the sink. I examine my face for visible blemishes finding a few. Thankfully, I had gotten through the brunt of my acne, braces, and glasses phase before high school had rolled around.

I leave the bathroom and dash back into my room. Dressing myself in a blue hoodie over my white t-shirt and a pair of faded denim jeans, I slip on my converse and slide out my door. I hop on the railing of my stairs and ride it the entire way down. My mom sits at our wooden dinning room table, the morning paper folded up in front of her face. I skirted around her slouching figure and picked up a piece of uncooked bread and popped it into the toaster. After layering butter and jelly on it I yelled goodbye to my mother and hopped out the door.

As I walk down my gravel driveway I stare down at my black converse until I realized something. _Great, another boring day at school. _ School was only a quick walk from home. I approach the large gray building staring at it and watch the teachers in their window prepare for the day. They are all running back and forth double checking their work pretending that they even care. No one really did work at school anyway. While the teachers shove their idea of learning down our throats, we all just stare at the clock hoping to make the time pass quicker. Some people pretend to do work and others have tiny conversations. Were not a very productive school. I reach the door and swing it open to reveal a hallway filled with chattering teens. _Here we go..._ I think, beginning to make my way through the crowed corridor. I receive the usual amount of stares and whispers from my less-than-friendly peers. Keeping my eyes on the shinny linoleum below, I push forth through the assorted globs of noisy teens.

I arrived at my locker that was between my two best friends, but neither of them were in sight. I sigh and gather my much abused books. They have been used for more then four years which I`m guessing exceeds their usual life span. On my math book there were the answers to various problems _and_ on the side was written _I love..._ and the rest was scribbled out. I grabbed my notebook which someone gave to me because they didn't use it. "_School sucks",_ and a heart was drawn filed with the initials of _I. P. + B. R._ was on the inside cover of my notebook. I tried to scribble over the initials as best as i could so no one would think that it had to do with me. I grabbed one of my other books completely covered in white out graffiti and closed the metal door.

I heard the first bell alarming us that class would start soon. I dragged my feet down the hall and climbed the stairs to my first "death room". _Great, one hour of algebra, in the morning, just what I need. _A push through another wooden door led to the bright room filled with stuffed animals and the teacher also known as Mrs. Mugmore. Mrs. Mugmore cared for her students but also could be a little over bearing sometimes...

"Good morning my babies!" _Here we go..._ I think as Mrs. Mugmore rushes excitedly into the classroom. She flies past our desks to reach her larger wooden one and she grabs papers and glides past us again. _Were does she get this energy? _I wonder.

"First turn your homework in, and then I will pass out your tests!" Only a few people got up to actually turn something in. Mrs. Mugmore gives back our tests which half of us threw away. I stare at my grade. B minus. _Hmm.. could be worse,_ I think shoving it into my backpack.

"Our lesson today will be about the quadratic formula!" As soon as she said that everyones head simultaneously turned to look out the window, or bent downward to sleep. I take out my sketch book and begin to draw as usual. She keeps rumbling on about how to use the formula while our class sits there starring into space thinking about the end of the day. _This is going to be a long day._

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**Authors` Note: ****Hey guys! This is our first NATM fic n our first fic in general! Ya we know it`s borin but it gets better, hopefully.. the natm stuff doesn`t really come in till the 3rd chapter but this is just the beginnin so bear with us n please review! Thanks for readin! Oh n yes, this is party based on the song "Here, Here, and Here" by Meg&Dia. We dont own anythin besides Nicole n anyone else ya dont recognize. And eventually we will name the chapters, not yet tho!**

**-the u.m. **


	2. Prohibition! Whatever that is

_Here, Here, and Here_

Chapter 2

Prohibition! Whatever That is...

The shrill sounding of the bell aroused the other students from their dreamy-stares into empty space. As everyone began to collect their belongings and leave, our history teacher, Mrs. Celeste cries out, "Stop! You will be dismissed in and organized fashion and only when row is called!"

Mrs. Celeste`s instructions we either not hear or not taken seriously. Whichever of the two, no one was leaving the classroom in any kind of organized fashion. As I collected my drawing supplies and headed towards the huge mob of teenagers forming at the door I hear Mrs. Celeste`s impatient voice calling my name, "Nicole! Don`t leave just yet."

I was pretending I had a sudden lapse of hearing and starting to walk away but I made the mistake of looking back. Mrs. Celeste was holding her finger close to her face and wiggling it back and forth in a "come here right now" gesture. Dragging my feet the whole way, I eventually made it back to my history teacher`s desk.

"Have a seat," Mrs. Celeste motioned to a small plastic and metal chair. I pull it up behind me and visibly slouch, hoping to show her just how _thrilled _I was to be here.

"Now, Nicole..."

"Tommie," I interrupt, "My friends call me Tommie."

"Nicole," she ignored my correction and continued, "Now, I know you are a smart girl," I scoff. _Thats how they always start,_ I think to myself, "and very well capable of at least a B average in my class, but your grades have been slipping as of late." I comb a hand through my short, dark hair and lean back in the chair.

"Alright then chief, what`s the damage?"

"Well, you are currently holding onto a..." Mrs. Celeste paused to turn and look at her computer and when she did so, her mountain of white hair whipped around and smacks me in the face. I swear, it`s a wig; it just doesn`t feel natural. Swiveling in her desk chair, she gave me a pointed look over the rim of her glasses.

"You are averaging a low D." I cross my arms, fill my cheeks up with air, and then let it out through the side of my mouth. _Well, all that drawing practice was worth it, _I think, trying to stay positive.

"Now, in my class, I require at least a C for a student to pass." I could already sense where Mrs. Celeste was going with this.

"Alright," I say, leaning forward in my seat, "what can I do to bring my grade up?"

"That`s just what I was getting to," she whirls around in her chair again and begins to sift through the papers scattered on her desk.

"Okay," she says turning to face me again, "You have two options, you can either, prepare a visual presentation for the class to watch, or you can write an essay."

In my mind, the words "visual presentation" translate to "costumes, acting and a shit load of work", _if I write an essay, I would only need a bit of research to spread across a couple pages... much less trouble on my part. _

"I`ll do an essay." I say confidently. Mrs Celeste nods.

"Now, for your essay, I`ll give you a choice of three topics. You may write about, the Civil War," _War between the states, North and South, classic conflict but a rather boring subject, _"Prohibition," she continues. _No idea what that is, but it sounds familiar and it could be interesting, _I think, "or World War two." she finishes. War World II was the last in the latest chapter we had learned. I recalled that Mrs. Celeste really didn`t appreciate my drawings of American soldiers chasing after the Axis Powers men, even if they _were_ decent sketches. I tap my fingers in a slow tempo across my chin thoughtfully.

"Im gonna go with Prohibition!" I decide, trying to sound happy about the opportunity to bring my grade up.

"Okay," Mrs. Celeste sighs. "Your essay must be no less than three pages, typed, and include a bibliography of your works citied. I will give you until the end of this semester to complete it."

_Alright, _I think to myself_. _"Sure, I think i can do it by that time."

"Ok well I know you will do your best" she says. I got up and dragged my feet back across to the other side of the room where the huge mob used to be.

I open the to door to familiar sounds of my classmates and the rest of the school. I could hear a gaggle of girls gossiping in the corners between hallways, a few immature boys making strange dinosaur noises, and a couple close friends laughing at untold inside jokes.

I finally make it to my locker to pick up all of my drawing supplies and I think about heading home. _Maybe I should start now on this paper. The faster I'm done the better. _I usually never plan ahead for anything, I favor waiting until "the eleventh hour" as Mrs. Celeste puts it but I have a feeling this is something I should take seriously. It _does _decide whether I pass this class or not, and really don`t feel like re-taking 10th grade history next year. So, I decide to make my way through the afternoon crowd and into the hallway leading towards the library.

I push past the enormous double doors that eventually give way to a high ceiling room with towering book shelves. Making my way past clusters of studying students or teachers looking for new material, I notice a familiar face.

"Devin!" I shriek excitedly, (to which I am scolded by the librarian in response) and sprint to my friend. He turns around just in time to see me screech to a halt before him.

"Hello, Tommie," Devin says softly using my much preferred nick name which I had earned in preschool for being such a tomboy. Not much has changed since then; _Devin certainly didn`t get any taller_, I think laughing on the inside even though I`m not exactly a sky-scraping giant myself.

"Hey, Devin. What brings you to the library this _fine _day?" I laugh and ruffle his spiked hair.

"Stop!" he whines smacking my hand away from the top of his head, "and I`m here to get some peace an` quiet so I can finish my math, but now that you`re here I don`t think I`ll be gettin` anything done." I smirk and set my sketch book in between two of the library`s computers next to where Devin was sitting.

"Wait," he asks, turing from his math homework to me, "why are _you_ in the library?"

"Ah psht," I wave my hand in a dissimilarly manner and log in to the computer. "Celeste`s got me doin` this report thing so I don`t fail outta history. No big deal"

"You`re failin` _history_?" Devin shook his head in mock shame.

"Shuddup. It ain`t my fault the class it so boring." I mumble and cross my arms. _Maybe sketching the whole time _wasn`t _such a good idea..._

"Still, it sucks ya have to do a paper. What`s it gotta be on anyway?"

"Uh, Prohinition or somthin` like that." I answer him, trying to remember what just exactly I`m supposed to be researching. I see that the computer has loaded up all the way and open up the internet.

"You mean _Prohibition_?" Devin corrects me, "do you even know what that is?"

"Of course I do! Its when some people did stuff in history with... ya know and that time where..." I sputter out random ideas realizing I had no clue what this "Prohibition" thing really was.

"Ha ha, no." Devin chuckles and then was suddenly serious, "It`s was when the U.S. Government prohibited the sale, manufacture, and transportation of alcohol." he states, sounding a bit too much like our history text books. I give him a blank stare and he continues,

"Also, people like Al-"

"Ah, get on with your work, I`ll find the rest on the internet." I spin back towards the glowing light of the computer and click on the google icon.

"Also, I hear that museum a few blocks away from here just got a small American history exhibit. You could check that out." Devin suggests.

I shrug and begin to type the word, "Prohibition" into the search bar.

"I`ll think about it." I say hearing Devin sigh and return to his work. _The Natural History Museum_, I say to myself, mulling over the name. I had passed it a few times on the way to and from school but never been inside. _Well, I suppose it couldn`t hurt to take a look tomorrow after school,_ I decide and continue my search for Prohibition- whatever that is...

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**Author`s Note:**** Ok so chapter 2! thanks to everyone that reviewed and read this story, it means a lot to us! we currently have 3 chapters of this written so there might be a bit of a wait for chapter 4, but we will get it out eventually. It takes a little while because we don`t want to get any historical errors because even though TheGirlinTheBigBox (the editor and Boxie for all of you from the forums :D) checks for them we might still miss some. And if we do happen to over look any, _please_ feel free to tell us about them; we really don`t want to put out any incorrect info XP that would be bad. So ya, we don`t own anything you recognize. Oh and the next chapter will be were the natm stuff really starts to come in. We will be asking for a few review before we post the next chapter. It doesnt have to be a lot, just 3 or 4 would be nice. thanks!**

**-the u.m. **


	3. Dramatic Night Guards and Gold Tablets

_Here, Here, and Here_

Chapter 3

Dramatic Night Guards and Golden Tablets

The next day I found myself along with the other bored students constantly staring at the black and white clock on the T.V. The sound of the bell pierces my ears, telling me that another class of Mrs. Celeste's has gone by.

"Nicole," she says as I start to stand up. _What does she want _now?

"How is your paper coming so far? Get any good information yet?"_ Oh, crap, _I think. I have to work on that today don`t I?

"Um it's coming good so far. I'm going to the Natural History Museum today to see if it can help me started.

"That's a great idea! They have a wonderful new exhibit on Al Capone, who is someone you might want to look into learning about. Just as long as your getting it done, have fun at the museum!" she says. I have idea who she is talking about or why he would pertain to my finishing this essay but I nod, pretending to understand, regardless.

"Of course I will" I say sarcastically adding a cheesy smile too. Luckily, Mrs. Celeste doesn`t pick up on it.

I gather my things and head out the large door that kept me from freedom everyday. As I step out into the hall flooded with people I sigh in relief that is was Friday and I didn't need to see Mrs. Celeste for the next two days. I walk amongst the groups of gossiping girls and bunches of animal noise-making boys and finally arrive at my locker once again. As I was about to collect my literature book from the top shelf, I feel someone cover my eyes with their hands from behind. I sigh.

"Guess who." says a voice who`s owner I already know.

"Could it be...the Queen of England?"

"Ha ha totally." My eyes are uncovered and I turn to the face the tall figure behind me.

"Hey Riley," I greet him half-heartedly, still thinking about the amount of work I`d have to do this afternoon. I also wasn`t exactly thrilled about going to a non-art related museum.

"Well you seem happy," he replies sarcastically, "Devin told me ya were doin` some extra credit for ol' Celeste eh? Now what`s that all `bout?" Once I had collected my books, we started down the hall.

"Nothin` really. Its just a little paper so that I don`t fail outta history." I explain.

"You`re failin` _history_? I mean sure Celeste`s a little on the wacky-side an` I`m pretty sure her hair`s a wig, but the class ain`t that hard. Can`t believe you`re failin` it." Riley says pushing through the heavy double doors that lead to the outside world.

"Why is that such a shocker? Celeste`s a wackadoo, you`re right `bout the hair thing too, plus it`s as borin` as hell! An` I would much rather be drawing than waste my time learnin` `bout people who`ve been dead for decades!" By the time I had finished my small rant we were standing on the pavement in front of the school.

"Alright, alright, I get it," Riley sighs and runs a hand through his shock of red hair. "So are you gonna do it?"

"Do what?"

"The essay," he clarifies.

"Well, ya," I say, "I have`ta if I wanna pass history class this year." I look up at the sky, and see dark, threatening clouds, saturated with water. If I wanted to beat the rain I had to get going.

"Hey, I gotta go," I toss my thumb behind me in the direction of the museum.

"Where are ya goin`? It`s Friday remember!" I stop in my tracks and look down. Riley, Devin and I had been getting together for movies, video games, and pizza every Friday night since we were in diapers. I would feel horrible about missing it, but I had to get started on this essay.

"Yeah, about that..." I start, the guilt of letting a friend down already growing in my stomach, "Im gonna have`ta miss the party tonight."

"You can do that paper anytime. C`mon." he waves his arm, gesturing for me to follow him.

"Well, I gotta check out the museum this afternoon, an` this is the only day I have time." I watch as Riley`s ever-present smile falters and becomes a dejected frown. "I mean, you can come if ya want..." I add.

"Nah, Tommie. I gotta go catch up with Devin. We`re seenin` a couple movies at the theater tonight an` I paid for `em so I can`t be late." the disappointment in his voice is clear as day.

"Hey, I promise I`ll be there next week! Don`t have too much fun without me!" I turn and begin to sprint down the sidewalk. Fat rain droplets smack my face as my feet carry me to the museum. From somewhere behind me, I can here Riley`s voice calling out a goodbye.

The clouds above me open up completely and unleash their full force of rain. It felt like tiny pebbles falling from the heavens coming across my face and was actually refreshing. I finally reach the museum completely soaked in my gray jacket with the hood over my head. I jogged up the many steps to finally approach the tall wooden and glass rotating doors.

I push them open to reveal an enormous open space inside. To my right stood a wax replica of Theodor Roosevelt, one arm extending upwards while clutching a sword. His other arm was tightly gripping the reigns of his horse which he sits atop, proud. A towering skeletal replication of a T-Rex dominates the middle space of the room, it`s mandible open and empty eye sockets staring me straight in the face. I begin to feel a bit overwhelmed; everything here is so..._life-like. _

Taking of my soaked jacket and returning it to the black messenger bag at my side I take note of the large amount of people occupying the building.I think to myself, _Why would it would be this crowded? Why would so many people want to spend their Friday afternoon cooped up in a dusty museum?_ All of a sudden I catch sight of a tour group standing in front of the information desk. At the head of the pack, there is a dark-haired security guard saying, "May I have your attention please!"

I sneak into the back of the group wondering where this would take me.

"My name is Larry Daley and I am the security guard of the museum, but for today I will be your tour guide. Make sure you have all turned you money in to the front desk." _Well I snuck into the group so maybe they wont notice._

"Okay then, let`s begin the tour!"

_He`s says that like this is actually gonna be exciting. _As the mob starts to move I follow to go along with it. I trail a little behind to be sure no one would tell if I was supposed to be there or not.

First we stopped at the Hall of Miniatures. Glass cases lined the walls on either side of us. Inside the cases are tiny versions of civilizations. One of them is a Old West theme that shows the building of a railroad. The second case we pass shows the Roman Empire at its height. The third case was a display of the early Aztec Indians and the daily life of their civilization. As the group pass the cases of the mini figurines Larry says,

"This is the Hall of Miniatures. These little guys are showing three different cultures, how they were built, and their day to day life." I notice Mr. Daley starts to stare at the the little figurines as if he knew something about them that no one else knew.

"They can be very... exciting sometimes." he says with a curious tone to his voice.

Our tour group exits the Hall of Miniatures and we continue down another hall. We keep walking through the museum and next we stop at Atilla the Hun. He and his group of warriors were standing looking like they were ready to battle any enemy who came their way. _They look like they could almost be alive,_ I think.

We start to head toward the Ancient Egyptian exhibit. _This tour is not helping me at all, _I think. _Stupid Devin, there is no Prohibition exhibit here! _I make a mental note to myself to give him a talking to later. Our group filed into a long, dark hall. Immense Jackal statues loomed overhead and stood straight as toothpicks for the length of the corridor. At the end of the passageway, there was a sarcophagus, most likely containing the remains of someone important. Suspended in a glass case above the tomb, was a shining slab, made out of what appeared to be pure gold.

"This is the last stop on the tour folks!" Mr. Daley's tone is confident.

"This section of the Egyptian exhibit is called the tomb of Ahkmunrah. He was a very powerful pharaoh in his time, much to the dislike of his older brother, Kahmunrah. And this," the night guard places his hand on the glass case containing the shining slab, "glowing golden object is the Tablet of Ahkmunrah. It was given to the pharaoh Ahkmunrah as a gift, though it`s true purpose is unknown. It is believed to have very magical and special powers; it is the key to opening the gate of Kahmunrah which leads into the Underworld. Many came to the tablet seeking help but it will help those only who truly need it, and it`s also thought to have the ability to bring inanimate objects to life!" Mr. Daley seems to be pretty excited about this but the tourists didn`t seem thrilled to any extent. He sighs and continues,

"But, the Tablet does not always work in ways people expect them to. It is capable of incredible miracles, but it`s magic can be a bit... tricky. However, the Tablet of Ahkmunrah makes no mistakes, everything it does has a purpose, even if those who it is acting upon do not realize this right away."

I could practically _hear_ the ominous music pouring out from somewhere as the night guard finishes his speech. I snort to myself. _Ridiculous,_ I think, but still wonder about the tablet. I move out of the way as the horde of tourists exit the chamber, and cross the space between me and the box containing it.

I squint my eyes and peer at it through the glass case. Hieroglyphs are intricately carved into little square blocks the front of the gold slab and I suddenly wish I could read them. I stare at the symbols, pondering what they meant.

"Having fun?" I am scared out of my thought process as a voice speaks from behind me. I look to find that it was the tour guide`s, who is now standing beside me.

"Yeah, I guess so." _Well as much fun as you can have in a place like this._

"Hmm," he sighs, and asks, "were you in our tour group?"

"Um, yes." I reply.

"And did you get what you paid for?" _Ha ha, _I laugh nervously to myself, "Sorta." the night guard frowns.

"What was missing? You looking for something in particular?" he inquires.

_Hey, _I realize, _he might know if there`s anything here that could help me with my report._

"Well I`m doin` a report for school `bout this thing called Prohibition an` I don`t think I`m in the right place..." I explain, looking at the Tablet of Ahkmunrah hanging over the deceased pharaoh`s sarcophagus, "I mean, the tablet thing was a nice bedtime story an` all but really need to get some work done."

Mr. Daley nods his head in understanding, "Of course. What did you say you needed to see? Prohibition?" I make a confirming gesture, "That was in the 20`s right?"

I shrug my shoulders and respond, "I _really_ don`t know. My friend said it was somthin` about alcohol an` I remember in my research readin` `bout the 'Roaring Twenties' so I suppose that`s it." I can see Mr. Daley`s grin growing by the minute and begin to wonder what he`s up to.

"Ok then, come with me." he puts his hand on my shoulder and we start to walk out of the dark chamber.

"Were are ya takin` me cheif?" I ask, hoping I could finally get some information for my report.

"You`re gonna get some of that research done. And since you`re doing Prohibition, I can think of a few things you should see."

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**Authors` Note:**** Well it`s bout time the natm stuff finally came in! I hope we wrote Larry ok...XD he just kinda jumped in there. next couple chapters are gonna be a little bit harder since Capone makes his entrance soon n we are still smoothin out his character. if anyones got any tips dont hesitate to give them! thanks for readin n please review! **


	4. Something You Should See

**Author`s Note:**** Hey guys! I`m so happy that I have a couple more reviews so I`d like to thank pinkxjellybean, FloatingPizza, Hawk`s-Gal4077 (love the name n love M*A*S*H btw ;) MamaLita n TTCyclone! Now, I have to warn you that this chapter may get a bit borin n i just took any historical facts from my own knowledge so sorry if i got anythin wrong, but it took 4 days to complete it so dont kill me here. Also, I am havin a slight spell of writers block n if you would really like to see somthin happen let me know. This doesnt mean ill for sure use your idea but if I dont have an writing epiphany in a couple days ill definitely consider it. Well, Here. We. Go!**

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_Here, Here, and Here_

Chapter 4

Something You Should See

Mr. Daley leads me out of the Tomb of Ahkmenrah and into the rest of the bright museum. I keep my eyes angled down towards my scuffed shoes, only looking up to make sure I was not falling behind the night guard`s long strides. We turn down a curved hallway, passing the Huns again and other a few early Native American tribe displays. The hallway eventually empties into the center of the museum where swarms of late afternoon tourists are snapping photos and purchasing gifts. I am still a little unnerved by the enormous dinosaur skeleton, menacingly posing on its pedestal. I can`t help but wonder what it was like when it still had skin on it. When it was alive...

I shake myself out of my thoughts and avert my eyes from the fossil, setting my gaze on the building`s front door. Outside, the rain had ceased and a warm setting sun replaced it. I frown and check my watch, confused. _It`s almost sunset, _I think. _Did I really spend over an hour taking that tour?_ _Mom will be wanting me home soon, won`t she? Oh, wait, no she won`t. She doesn`t care anymore,_ I remember, and wrap one arm around my stomach, where I can feel the despair forming. I shove the emotion back down deeper, for fear of letting it show in public.

"Hey, um Mister Daley," I say, getting his attention, and return my eyes to the shiny floor.

"Call me Larry," he responds cheerfully.

"Ok, Larry," I start again. "Where are you takin` me an` how much longer is it gonna be `cause I gots ta` get home sometime."

"Don`t worry!" He smiles and pats me gently on the shoulder. "It won`t be much longer now and you`ll find everything you need for your paper." I notice Larry shoots a quick glace past me, to the door and the outside world like I did a few moments ago. After nodding once, he continues to move ahead and we turn down another corridor and come to a stop before another hallway.

Above the opening to the hall, a wooden plaque is drilled into the wall with the words "American History" engraved on it with brass lettering. I suddenly remember why I came to the museum in the first place and sigh. Research is the last thing on Earth that I want to do right now but I go after Larry into the hall regardless. Looking down the hall, I can see a detailed timeline explaining the U. S.`s past running along the length of the crimson walls. Enormous rippling American flags are painted behind the timeline, acting as a colorful backdrop. Larry motions for me to follow him further to where I`m guessing the Prohibition area lies. I jog across the linoleum and catch up with the night guard around the Civil War section and we continue to walk beside the timeline.

I run my hand along various events in history and it almost gives me the feeling of moving forward in time. I keep doing this until Mr. Daley finally stops sometime after World War I. He points to a number of years on the wall, all of which are under a section labeled "The Roaring Twenties".

"This," Larry says placing his finger on the year 1920, "Is when Prohibition started." I nod, still uninterested. He begins to give me what I assume is a rundown of helpful facts. But, as usual, I find my mind wandering to other subjects, like my dad. I remember getting caught sneaking out to see him for the third time this week, or was it the fourth? I honestly couldn`t keep track of the times I had tried to slip away and visit my father. Even when I did get to see him, the hospital almost always sends me home.

I am only able to catch a few of the words that Larry used in his ramble. Things like "Volstead Act", "Organized Crime," and "Bootleggers" stand out to me for some reason.

"Hang on here," I interrupt him, "What the flyin` flip is a bootlegger?" The word sounds oddly humorous to me. Larry sighs like he`s repeating this for the upteenth time.

"It`s a person who makes or sells various illegal goods. During Prohibition, it was a popular business. They mostly made alcohol then."

"Ah," I rock back on my heals, and a quick moment of silence follows before Mr. Daley says,

"You should probably write a few of these things down. Ya know, for your paper." Nodding, I reach into my backpack and pull out a graffiti-covered note book and a teeth mark-ridden pen. Larry and I start to take another stroll, now walking away from the timeline, and he goes into a bit more depth on this "bootlegging". While he spits out important facts, I keep walking and scribble down quick notes, making a mental note to decode my writing later.

We weave around corners and take different turns; I can only assume he is leading me to another part of the museum. I continue to tag along side him until he abruptly stops again, this time infront of an exhibit.

"This," Larry gestures towards the exhibit, "is also someone you might wanna look into learning about." I put a period on the last sentence I was scrawling out and turn my head upwards. I see that Mr. Daley is referring to a photo. Well, more than a photo really, a monochromatic picture pasted onto a life-sized cardboard cut-out. The photo itself is of a fairly young man, who looks as if he has been plucked right out of an old 20`s detective movie, complete with pin-striped garb and a grey fedora covering neat, dark hair. I stare for another moment before asking,

"Great. Who is he?"

"That would be a bootlegger. One of the most well-known, actually." Larry shoots me a side glance, "I mean, you`ve heard of Al Capone right?

I chew the name over in my mind, scanning my brain for any connections it brought about. Suddenly, I recall Mrs. Celeste`s mentioning it a couple times in class this year (always accompanied by grey scale photos), and once today. _This must have been the exhibit she was talking about, _I think and snap my fingers as I come to the conclusion.

"Yeah, it does ring a bell. I`ve heard it a few times in history this year, an` my teacher also recommend I check out an exhibit on him here. I`m guessin` this what she meant." I say.

"And she was definitely putting you on the right track. Capone was a very important figure during Prohibition. I would give you a few facts but it looks like it`s a bit late." Mr. Daley finishes and flicks his wrist to take a glance at his watch while I look back up at Al.

Much like my experience with the T-Rex at the front of the museum, I wonder what Capone was like when he was alive and walking. What was his attitude? Was he headstrong or tractable? Was he stubborn and persistent or did he give up easily? How did he treat the women and men he came in contact with? How did he handle a sticky situation? I felt slightly stupid for letting my mind ask questions or even care about someone that had lived nearly ninety years ago, but I almost had a desire to know the answers.

"Well, I think it would probably be best to get going." Larry decides, shaking me from my thoughts... again. "Your parents are probably gonna be wondering where you are!" I scoff quietly at the idea, not loud enough for him to hear. The night guard smiles again, placing a hand on my shoulder, and leads us both out of the American History section.

Once we have entered the nearly empty front of the museum, I stop, remembering my manners.

"Thank you Mister Daley for helpin` me with the research!" I call and turn to leave.

"Of course! Do you think you got enough for a while?" He asks.

"I think so. You`re quite the Encyclopedia there chief." Mr. Daley laughs whole-heartedly.

"Well, working here, it`s best you read up on your history." A strange tone is set in his voice, similar to the one he used earlier while talking about the miniatures. Almost like he knows something I don`t, and is waving the secret in my face.

"Yeah, I still dunno if I gonna do well on this paper though. Maybe the "Tablet of Ahkmenrah" will give me the help I need," I say over-dramatically and laugh, but I notice that Larry doesn`t seem to think it`s humorous at all.

"You never know." He almost whispers and swallows hard.

"What? You don`t really believe in those stories you where tellin` do ya? I mean, it`s all just for show right?" I put on my honest face and hope that Larry will be frank with me.

He sighs and looks at his shoes apparently contemplating something. "Come back in a few days." Mr. Daley turns his face back to meet mine. "I think I might just have an idea. So you go home, live your normal life, tell me if anything...changes, and come back to the museum say, Tuesday." he pats my shoulder and, waving to me calls, "Good night!" I shake my head and push through the revolving glass doors.

As soon as I`m back in the outside world, I suck in deep breath of late afternoon air to clear my mind. I start to head for home and while I`m running have time to think. _"Changes?"_ _What the hell did he mean by "if anything...changes"? Im pretty much stuck in a rut with my life here. No museum, "magic tablet", or person is going to change that. He can`t seriously believe in that children`s story, can he? Unless it`s true...No there`s no way. There`s no magic. That stuff belongs in fairy tales and nursery rhymes, not in museums. Museums are for facts and that`s all that`s there. Facts. If some people can`t see that, too bad. _

By the time my rant is finished I`m nearly home and pretty damn glad. I was exhausted from the day and didn`t want to squander my energy supply with these crazy thoughts. _Changes,_ I scoff. _Yeah right. _


	5. Careful

**Read this first guys!**

**(Long-ass) Author`s Note: ****Hey everyone! Sooo sorry for the delay, but here it is! This chapter is a bit longer, hopefully that makes up for it. Thank you guys so much for the reviews! It really means a lot to me especially cause I know a large amount of people don`t get as many reviews as they deserve and im so glad that i do. and I would also like to thank pinkxjellybean and FloatingPizza, cause without their advice on how to write Capone`s character, I probably would not be able to put this together. I would also like to run an idea by you guys: I have a playlist of songs for this story, what do you all think bout me posting it maybe after the last chapter? please gimme ur suggestions, thanks. ****Now, I have to warn you, this chapter is kinda strange in the way that Al shows up in Tommie`s life (we all knew that was comin so I don`t think im spoiling anythin). I went through A LOT of ideas, but this one was the one that I think is best for the story line and character development. . That being said, it`s also the one that makes the least sense if you forget what Larry said in the chapter before. It`s a bit of a stretch for this kinda NATM fanfiction, and for the powers of the tablet, but I think it`ll work- I hope so anyway. It`s also a bit dark in the middle. just be warned. Since I`m kinda paranoid bout gettin characters wrong, I`m gonna ask that no one kill me with the flames here, but constructive crit is always good, just don`t flame me to death k? This _was_ pretty hard to write after all.** **Lastly, I would like to recommend a fanfiction: "Guardians" by pinkxjellybean, is awesome if you want some great interaction between Capone and OCs without a lot of romance. It`s also very unique pretty funny. Anyways, heres the chapter we`ve all been waiting for! (drum roll)**

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_Here, Here, and Here_

Chapter 5

Careful

The rest of my weekend goes by as usual. I make the most of the days by catching up on lost hours of sleep that I never seem to get enough of, while my nights remain restless. Tossing and turning under thin sheets, I watch the same dream replay itself, like some sick, twisted song blaring over and over again in my mind. That, coupled with the possibility of not passing history class, was enough to give me horrible anxiety, though I don`t plan to find a cure anytime soon. I wasn`t about to go have my dreams analyzed or jump into writing my essay.

I did not work any more on my Prohibition report since Friday for three reasons, one: I believe spending multiple hours in a museum doing research is more than enough to deserve a break, two: every time I read my notes on Al Capone, I couldn`t stop my mind from producing countless questions about the guy no matter how often I try to convince myself it`s uninteresting, and three: the subject was a constant reminder of Mr. Daley`s words which still echoed off the walls of my thoughts.

"Come back in a few days, I think I might have an idea..." I recall him saying. "Tell me if anything...changes."

Why was I not able to stop thinking about this? _It was just a stupid story,_ I assure myself, _and Mr. Daley was probably just telling me to return to the museum soon... in a very strange manner. By "changes" he probably means if I change my mind about the Tablet of Ahkmenrah, which won`t happen. And the only reason I will go back to the museum is research. _Or at least I am trying to make this sound convincing while I go through my morning routine today, Monday. I scrub away the sleepiness from my face and decide to not let anything Prohibition-related cross my mind till Wednesday, when I have scheduled a study session with Riley and David in the school Library.

I step out of the bathroom and dig in my chest of drawers for an outfit. I finally settel on a black and white striped t-shirt, really not caring if it matched my pants. Before I leave the room, I grab my leather bound sketch portfolio, a few charcoal pencils, and a steel razor for sharpening. _God knows how boring things are gonna get today. Best be prepared._ I think. I slide out the door and twist around to face the flight of stairs. Normally, I would hitch a ride on the railing to get to the first floor, but rubbing my sleep-deprived eyes, I decide that`s not the smartest idea. I settle for slinking down the steps on foot instead. When I finally land on the bottom level of the house and enter the kitchen, my mom has already left for her part-time job. I sigh missing the days when I actually got to speak with my folks at breakfast. _Hmm, breakfast sounds good right about now..._ I think and put a hand to my empty stomach. _Do I have time?_ I glance at the clock on the wall which reads 7:15 in green blinking type.

I figure I have long enough and slam a Poptart in the toaster. After setting the dial to ensure it wouldn`t burn, I flip on the TV to the morning news and settle down at the dinning table. Before the TV even boots up all the way, I can already hear the inappropriately chipper voice of a news caster, flapping her gums about a rescued whale- or something like that. I am able to drown out the annoying sound with a bit of quite thinking about the day ahead of me. _Mrs. Celeste will probably want to know how I`m coming on my report. I`ll just tell her I got a lot done this weekend, technically, I won`t be lying. No, I won`t be lying at all actually (that`s a first). I _did _get a lot done this weekend, and, though I hate to admit it, I had a pretty good time too. _I half-smile to myself, remembering the museum exhibits. _Except for... you know. _A voice in my head reminds me._ No, no, I`m not going to think about that. At least not until Wednesday._

I head the toaster wheeze, signaling my food was done. I heft my backpack onto my shoulders, swing by the toast just as the Poptarts are flying out the top, and grab them. After I push through the front door and step outside, I say out loud, "Please let this be a good day_." _It sounded a bit cheesy and stupid for me to say, but I really wanted to have a good day, because well, I hadn`t in a while. I wasn`t expecting a full-on happy musical sing-along or anything, just a pleasant day without my usual misadventures. _That would be nice_.

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I burst through the front door of my home and angrily rip the headphones which I was listening to from my ears. I back into the cold wood behind me and slide down to the floor, feeling the cut out ridges bump along my back. _It`s so unfair! _I yell inside my head. _It`s not like I was gonna kill anyone! What harm could a little razor do anyway? It`s not even meant to cut skin- only sharpen charcoal. _I think trying not to remember what happened today...

I took my normal seat in algebra, one near the back so I could draw in peace without anyone bothering me. I had divided other folk`s reactions to my desire to be an artist into a few main categories: there was the ever appreciated, "Oh, that`s so cool OMG I wish I could draw too!" and then the rather annoying, "Really? Could you draw me?" or my personal favorite, "How the hell are you going to make any money?" I laughed at them all quietly, but the attention I received purely because I could put a pencil to paper irked me sometimes. I set up my supplies, laying out my charcoal pencils like surgical tools and placing my sketch portfolio in the center of the desk. I pick up a hard lead pencil and was drawing the beginning of a human eye, when, out of the corner of my vision, I see someone take the seat next to me. I think nothing of it, until I hear a voice close to my ear ask, "Hey, whatcha doin`?" I sigh, and turn to face who I recognize as a kid named Zach.

"Hey, Zach." I say, not taking my eyes off my work.

"Hey, Tommie." He returns the greeting kindly and begins arranging his own desk setup. Zach was a pretty nice guy, as far as I knew anyway. He`d never been in the spotlight for anything bad save for falling victim to the flirting of the less lovely dames the school. He was their constant heartthrob and the perfect shiny toy for them to fight over. After I didn`t respond to Zach`s words, he asks agian, "Whatcha doin`?"

"Drawin`. What`s it look like?"

"Whoa, chill. I was just wonderin`." He holds up his hands in defense.

I sigh, a mix of exasperation and confusion. I had absolutely no idea why Zach was talking to me, I wasn`t exactly on good terms with his friends.

I return to drawing eyebrow hairs and hear Zach pipe up again, "You any good? At drawing I mean."

I shrug. "Not really," I almost laugh. "But I suppose you can see for yourself." I suggest and let Zach flip through a couple pages in my portfolio, while I take out a razor to sharpen one of my charcoal pencils. After a few minutes, Zach hands the leather book back to me. "I like `em." He smiles, "Really?" I raise my eyebrows, "Yeah you pay a lot of attention to detail an` stuff." I was about to reply with a thank you when our teacher`s voice from behind me.

"Zachary, Nicole, what are you two-" Mrs. Mugmore uses my real name and begins in her usual endearing tone but stops when she catches sight of the steel razor in my hand, glinting under the florescent lights. "Nicole. What is that?" she asks slowly pointing to the razor.

"A razor." I say plainly. She nods and walks calmly to the front of the room. _She`s going towards the phone. _I think_. Why is she going to use the phone? _Zach must have been thinking the same thing because we both look at each other, confused. Mrs. Mugmore exits the room with the phone and lets the door shut on the spiral cord. She returns a few minutes later to the side of my desk.

"Nicole, gather your things and leave. The front office is waiting for you." She speaks to me as if I where a small child but I`m regarded with hard eyes.

"What the-? Why?" I stumble, and feel a knot twist in my throat. Zach nods in agreement.

Mrs. Mugmore`s face hardens. "Go. Now."

I shove my portfolio and other tool into my backpack with Zach`s help and hurry out the door, receiving glances from a few of my classmates. Withe same hard expression, Mrs. Mugmore watches me go as well. I stare at my shoes and the the dirt floor as I make my way through the maze of hallways and to the front office. The knot in my throat has grown to twice its size and I begin to feel sick. _No, _I tell myself. _You are _not_ gonna be a wimp about this. You`re gonna go in there and take whatever they throw at you._ With my confidence slightly restored, I push through the front door of the school office. I approach the desk and regarded the wrinkled secretary with more cocky-ness than I probably should have used.

"Y`all uh- wanted to see me?" I raise my eyebrows and smirk slightly, "Well c`mon I ain`t got all day." The secretary opens her mouth to reply but is cut off by my principal.

"Nicole," I turn my head lazily in her direction, "Come on. Now." The principal leads us into her office and motions for me take a seat. I dash behind her desk and settle into the wide-backed principal`s chair. After closing the door, she turns and frowns, "Nicole, do not try and be funny." She points to a small plastic chair in front of her desk that apparently was meant for me. I sigh and dramatically plop down into the piece of plastic. The principal runs through the same procedure we go through every time I get in trouble, asking for my side of the story, and what exactly happened, but this time, she went about a few things a bit differently.

"But why Nicole?" She looks into my eyes and leans forward on her desk.

"Why what?" I ask, still able to keep my cocky attitude.

"Why..." she pauses, "Why would you do something like that? And in front of you`re classmates..."

"What are you talkin` `bout?"

"I know your father`s sick but why would you take it out on yourself? I-"

"Whoa hold it." I put my hand up, my confidence was replaced with shock and anger. _Please don`t bring my father into this_. "What does my father have do with this?"

"Please don`t play dumb with me Nicole, not with something like this." The principal shakes her head and while I try to figure the whole thing out.

"Um, honey, I don`t think we`re on the same page here." I say with honesty. "I don`t know what ya-" The realization hit me. I couldn`t believe it. _She thinks I`m trying to self-harm, doesn`t she? _

"Hey, hey, I get ya now. No, no, dear God no. It`s a drawin` tool." I hold up the razor to show her. Digging in my backpack, I find a charcoal pencil and begin to sharpen the tip with it. "See?"

"Nicole, this involves your safety." She doesn`t look at me, and instead chooses someplace over the top of my head to stare at. "I`m afraid I can`t just take your word for it."

"What? I`m not hurting myself! I don`t know where you folks get these crazy ideas..." I run a hand through my mess hair and lean back.

"I`m going to have to ask you to give me that." I don`t need her to point to know she`s talking about the razor.

"Um, I kinda need it. Ya know, bein` an artist an` all." The principal doesn`t seem to understand and holds our her hand, waiting for me to drop it there.

"I`m sorry, Nicole. Hand it over. Now." She`s getting a bit tense. I shake my head.

"Nicole, the razor now please."

"No." I say flatly. It wasn`t the razor I was worried; about I could get another one easily. It was the fact that she brought my father into it. I had done a good job to keep his illness a secret and didn`t want rumors about it going around.

"Nicole please! I can`t stand by and let this happen." she forced her hand forward.

"I`m not doing` what you think I am! It`s an art tool for cristssake! I exclaim.

"Listen, we can get you help! You can talk to the school councilor about your father an-"

I cut her off, "It`s a Goddamn art tool!" I explode, though I really don`t mean to. _So much for this being a good day. _"I`m not hurting myself!" I stand up, and clench my hands so hard I feel my fingernails digging into my palms."An` my father has nothin` to do with this!"

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I feel tears prick my eyes but quickly blink them away. "Goddamn flashbacks," I mumble to myself. I hated crying, it made me feel so weak and vulnerable, and I also hated the people that _made_ me cry. _And besides, _I continue my rant,_ It`s not like the other kids don`t bring that kinda stuff- drugs, condoms, weapons of mass destruction, you name it. And I get busted for having an effin` drawing tool! _Screaming seemed appropriate right about now, but I calmed myself down and did not do so. Having my razor confiscated wasn`t even really what got me in a lather (I got in trouble all the time) or even what the principal though I was doing, it was the fact that I actually though this was going to be a good day. I really believed for a second there that I might have had something worth while happen to me. It was also that she brought up my father. I wipe my face with my shirt sleeve and try to shake off the strange feeling twisting up my gut. I distract myself by straining my ears to hear the sounds that would tell me if anyone else was home. Above me, I can make out the steady fall of someone`s foot steps.

"Mom?" I call out, slowly standing up from my spot on the floor. "Mom, are you home?" I decide that the footsteps must be her`s. Leaving my backpack at the front door, I run to the stairs and take them two at a time. "Mom?" I yell a little quieter this time. As I reach the top of the stairs, I realize that she must be home. _But what the hell is she doing in my room? _I wonder. Shrugging off the question, I approach my bedroom door. I flex my graphite-stained hand before turning the brass knob, and push the solid wood with my shoulder. I throw my drawing portfolio on my bed and cross the room so fast I barely notice the nicely dressed man standing next to my door.

Wait, WHAT?

I freeze and feel the hair the back of my neck stand up. _What? _I think again, too scared to turn around, but I do so anyway. I slowly shift my feet and twist my body to face the other side of my room. Sure enough, in front of me, clear as day stood a man that I was sure (if I wasn`t about to piss myself with shock) I could place his name. I felt my legs wobble as he looks at me with the same open-mouthed gesture that I had, only he seems a bit more angry. _Okay, Tommie, don`t panic,_ I tell myself. _You`ve had a long day. You`re really only hallucinating. You`re just tired, close your eyes and it will all go away. _I do just that but when I lift my eyelids for the fifth time, he still stands there. _Yeah, okay, time to panic. _I took a deep breath in and was read to scream when the man must have predicted my actions and tried to speak first

"Hey-"

Before he could finish, I open my mouth and let loose a scream that hurt my own ears. I know I had to do something other than scream and turn briefly to my night stand and pick up the first thing my hand touches which is a thick hard cover book. The man covers one of his own ears and winces but holds his hand out in a "stop" gesture. I proceed to raise the book above my head and bring it down on his hand. He grunts and pulls his hand back. I try to repeat my actions and this time, aim for his head. I pull the book back again, but he`s quick and snatches my only weapon from me. I watch dumbly as he tosses the book across the room, and turns to face me. The man begins to approach me. My mind is screaming at me to do something, but I don`t have the strength to grab another object. _He`s getting closer_. That voice says again. _Do something, anything!_ I look down at my own sweaty hand. _It`s worth a shot. _I curl my fingers into a tight fist and thrust them forward where the man`s jaw should be. Usually, I have pretty good aim but the overall insanity of the situation may have altered that a bit. My hand collides with the space just beneath his jaw line, but a few of my fingers strike bone.

"Gah! Shit!" I hiss and retract my hand. Pain flowed through my fingers like blood as I massaged them with my good hand. I look up to see that the man had not been affected very much by my punch, and was now stomping towards me. I know there was nothing I could do about it now, I just had to wait. _Oh God, Oh God, Oh God. I`m gonna die! _I think. I close my eyes and my face screws up with fear as I brace myself for his blow. Instead of the punch or kick I expected I feel strong hands claps my shoulders and push me (not hard though) into a wall.

"Hey," I hear the mans voice, and try to turn my face away. "Look at me." he whispers angrily, indicating he wasn`t messing around. I only squeeze my eyes shut tighter and open my mouth to scream one more time, but apparently the man had had enough of that. He quickly removed a hand from my shoulder and placed it over my mouth. If I wasn`t scared half to death, I probably would have licked or bit him.

"I ain`t playin` games here, kid." his words come through clenched teeth. I slowly open my eyes to find his face a bit to close for comfort. "Atta boy. Now tell me," -I`m to scared to even give thought to the fact that the man wrongly interpreted my gender- "Where `m I? An` who`re ya workin` for?" when I don`t answer his eyes narrow and he leans forward more, "You one of O`Banion`s boys?" My eyebrows knit in confusion. _What is this guy talking about? And who the hell is O`Banion? _"This is his doin` ain`t it?" he pauses to look around the room, and I try to speak through his hand which was still covering my mouth.

"Alright," he says apparently having made up his mind about something. "I`ll lay off ya, but you`re gonna haveta tell me where I am once I do. We gotta deal?" his voice is a bit softer now. I nod my head, deciding anything was better than my current position and he carefully detaches his hands from me. Putting a sweaty hand to my forehead, I slump to the floor. _Who is this guy? _I figure I`m calm enough now for some clear and ordered thinking. _I certainly don`t know him from school, or art classes, but he looks so familiar. _The other annoying voice pipes up sarcastically in my head, _Yes, Tommie, because you know SO MANY guys who walk around dressed like they`re from the twenties. Wait.. _I think, seeing a name flash behind my eyes. _No way. It`s not him, you`re hallucinating. Or Im dreaming, I have to be. __At least, I hope I am. But what if you`re not? _I that damn voice asks, but I don`t get a chance to answer right away, for he (I refuse to believe he is who I think he is), turns toward me.

"Now, I`d sure like it if you held up your part of our little deal." the man smirks slightly and waits for my answer.

I`m breathing heavily and still chanting over in my mind, _It`s all in your head, it`s a dream, none of this is real. It can`t be. _"You`re in New York. Brooklyn to be exact." I pant, replying solely out of fear. "Today is Monday, March 1st," I feel some of my strength return and use my dresser as a crutch to stand. "year 2010." the last few words are barely audible, as I realize something. _I _never_ know the date in my dreams._ It was strange but true, I would try to figure them out, but never could conjure up a fixed date. I felt sick as my heart drops into my stomach. _I`m not dreaming_. I remember Larry`s words. _The tablet is not just a good bedtime story. _I turn slowly back to the man who looked as confused as I was a few minutes ago.

"Capone..." I mumble to myself, sure that he couldn`t hear me. _That _is_ who I think it is. _I almost laugh at the situation. _So much for a good day._

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**Okay, so did I destroy the characters here? I really hope not, this was really hard to write. Well, review if ya want. **


	6. An Eyeful

**Author`s Note: Thanks for all the reviews and tips guys! They really help me and I want this story to be the best it can be. Unfortunately, school is starting n just so you know, no matter how long it takes for me to post a chapter, I have full intentions of finishing this story, trust me- I`ll tell you if I want to stop. I apologize for this being so short n really not that good. but I just wanted to get something out. I`ll try to update sometime this weekend. Also, ****I put a poll up on our profile so vote if you get a chance.

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_Here, Here, and Here_

Chapter 6

An Eyeful

When I was younger, my parents used to tell me to always watch out for strangers. That "minding my surroundings" was important if I ever wanted to get across the street alive, and staying calm was best in tough situations. Of course, like the wonderful child I was, these words fell of deaf ears.

Perhaps that was the reason I reacted the way I did when America`s most notorious gangster somehow squeezed his way into my time period, and more specifically, my house. _But to be fair, _I reason, _how do most people behave when someone who has been dead for over 60 years suddenly pops up, fully alive and functional?_ I am still trying to convince myself it`s a bad dream or a prank but that`s just wishful thinking on my part. And now, here I am, leaning against a dresser to support my consciousness, and avoiding eye contact with the only other human being I am currently aware of.

I continue to stair into space as the air in the room grows quiet and tense. A small part of me hopes Capone will speak up soon; I hate awkward silences but this hast to be the worst of them all. Gulping with a strained throat, I allow my eyes one glance in his direction and am slightly relieved that I`m not the only one who seems to be a bit confused.

A fazed look of concern has made itself at home on Capone`s face, and I start to wonder how long we had been doing nothing like this. _If someone doesn`t say something in the next minute, I think I`ll explode. _A few feet away, I hear the crinkling of fabric. I look over to see Capone has settled into my couch (which doubled as my bed), and was thoughtfully rubbing his temples. He removes his hand from his face some moments later and it appears as if he is opening his mouth to speak. Of course, because this is my life and I`m not expecting any less, my phone chirps and buzzes in my pocket just then. The noise signals I have a new text message and at the same time interrupts Capone. He looks around for the source of the sound, while I hold the screen up to my face to see who was trying to reach me. I see Riley had sent me a message and open it.

_hey i heard what happened today. you ok? devin wants to know if we`re still gonna meet on wednesday._

_What? How could he have known about Capone and- Oh. _I realize he`s referring to the other thing (for my sake, I don`t want to bring the memory back up). I smile slightly at his concern and the timing of text. Before I could contemplate sending a reply, I hear a throat clear and direct my attention to the only possible source.

I gulp down the lump that was forming in my air way and manage a shaky, "Yes?"

"If you`re done screwin` around with" -he gestures towards my phone, and I slowly put it back into my pocket- "uh, that. Now, what day did ya say it was?"

"Monday? The first of August? 2010?" _I really hope he don`t take this too hard. _I think.

Capone looks at me funny for a moment before cracking a slight smile. He laughs, or maybe snorts was a better word- it`s a bit unnerving either way- and nods his head as if in understanding.

"You got a sense of humor, I like that." Capone smirks again, now condescendingly. "But, we did have a deal-"

"I`m not jokin` around here." I state with as much honesty I can manage. He ignores me, and persists,

"Look kid, I don't know how much they`re paying you but-"

"No one is paying me anythin`, what are you talkin` about?" I narrow my eyes at him, getting irritated and Capone does the same (apparently, he`s not taken a liking to me interrupting him). _This guy`s obviously not going to take my word for it._ I think. _And he`s still stuck on the idea that I`m working for someone. I could just show him... _Seeing no other option, I point towards my window. "Just see for yourself if you don`t believe me."

Capone returns my suggestion with a puzzled glance, and looks from me, to the window, and back to me. When I don`t move my pointing hand, he sighs and crosses the space between him and the window. After pulling up the shudders for him, I situate myself awkwardly against the wall next to the sill and wait for a reaction. A few minutes of anxious silence pass and I decide to take a look at what Capone was seeing.

Surrounding my second story room, were other buildings, many similar to mine. A wide range of pedestrians dot the sidewalks below. I can see parents trying to keep their kids in line, couples holding hands, runners enjoying the weather and I don`t blame them; it`s perfect outside. It`s one of those warm spring days, the kind that you wish for all winter and don`t want to waste once they arrive, but I highly doubt Capone was interested in the pleasant climate change. I search for something else that might have caught his interest and settle on the impressive cars streaking by. Some are glossy and gaudy, others appear to have seen better days, and a few rest somewhere in between. I watch as one from the first group flies across the asphalt like a bat out of hell, while another automobile chugs along blasting music so loud it rattles the glass pane below Capone`s finger tips. Turning my head from the street below to him I think, _Must be getting quite an eyeful. _As if to prove my point, Capone mumbles something crude but the words are hidden under his breath.

"Whatdidya say?" I ask, keeping my voice softer on purpose. Truth be told, I`m a bit worried about his reaction. Instead of answering, he merely blinks a few times, and I pose another (oddly polite) question, "Can I uh, get ya anythin` Chief?"

It seems to take a lot for Capone to separate his stare from the window, but he eventually does.

"A drink." He grumbles after choking out a nervous laugh. I raise my eyebrows, but comply. After all, I`m not one to deny the demands of mob bosses.

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